


boys pulling pigtails

by ChevreJaune



Series: the rose potter files [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Female Harry Potter, Gen, Hogwarts First Year
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-05-02
Packaged: 2018-10-26 23:09:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 973
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10796688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChevreJaune/pseuds/ChevreJaune
Summary: Lily Potter wouldn't have taught her daughter silly beliefs such as,darling, boys pull your hair to show you they care.Nor would Lily Potter have raised a son that touched a girl's hair without asking.But Lily is dead, and Rose Potter gets her hair pulled by Dark Lords and other jerks.





	boys pulling pigtails

**Author's Note:**

> originallly written to flesh out the characters and universe of my WIP '[ for our world is next in line](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10695657/chapters/23688942)', but same as every other piece that will be posted in the 'rose potter files' series, they're also meant to be standalones and thus entirely readable on their own.
> 
> unbeta'ed.

(The first time Dudley pulls on her hair, the teacher gives Rose's head a comforting pat and tells her not to worry: boys often did that as a way to get attention. _Dare I even say, Rose, for them it is almost a language of affection!_ , adds the woman with a fond laugh.  
  
The next day, Dudley cheerfully yanks her pigtail again in the schoolyard, secure in the knowledge he wouldn't be punished.

When Rose gives back as good as she gets, the teacher takes her aside and tells her that violence is not a proper way to communicate.)

 

x

 

Severus Snape is a complete bastard to her from minute one.

It’s the way he looks at her – all judgment and sneers and it is so very clear that he sees everything worth seeing about her and finds her lacking. She’s very familiar with the expression: aunt Petunia sports it often enough.

He’s asking her questions about the material. They are not beginner-friendly questions. There is no, ‘What are the potions we will be learning in the first year and what do they have in common?’ or any ‘Tell me what is the difference between dicing and chopping a mandrake root in a standard student-level potion’ or ‘What are the effects of the moon cycle on a month long brewing?’. Those would be general questions of things she’d need to know before diving in.

She’s pretty sure that the only place she’d ever go for a bezoar is in the Apothecary. And she should probably order one very fast, if Snape’s glare is any prediction of the likelihood of someone slipping her poison soon.

‘Clearly, fame isn’t everything,’ he spits at her, black eyes narrowed and frown prominent on his brow.

Her eyes feel hot. She tries for the innocent smile. ‘Well, I am here to learn, Professor.’

Her intent of studiousness is genuine, but the side of cheekiness is unmistakable. It costs Gryffindor five points and Rose Potter knows there and then that Potions is just going to be one of those classes.

 

x

 

Draco Malfoy is nothing but a blubbering tit. He insists on telling her how amazing he is and how much she is missing out by having refused his offer of friendship… whenever he isn’t taunting her looks, calling her hair a dreadful case of perpetual bad hair day and pointing out how boyish she acts. Pansy Parkinson is delighted by the whole thing; Lavender and Parvati are offended on her behalf whenever they are within hearing distance.

Her friends never actually rebuke the claims of her boyishness. They prefer to trade back insults about ‘Pansy’s unfortunate pug-face’ and ‘Draco’s horrid manners’ and then dig the knife into the details of those two claims. Once they’re alone with Rose, the girls offer her advice on how to look better.

Rose stops listening after a while. There are too many rules to make-up and fashion, and that’s not even counting the monstrous number of possible ‘faux-pas’. She’s not touching that one with a stick. Ron nods fervently when she tells him about it.

Besides, if the boys don’t have to worry about make-up, Rose sees no reason to force herself to care about it. If a boy looks stupid, the girls just have to accept it and get used to it until it grows on them. Boys could probably be taught to do the same, if the girls didn't give them a choice.

She does let the girls ‘do her up’ every now and then, if only to see the gobsmacked look on Malfoy’s dumb pointy face.

 

x

 

Voldemort is evil: Rose knew it the moment Hagrid shuddered while whispering his name. He killed her parents as well as a bunch of other people, magical and otherwise; plus, there was the case of the unicorn. As far as the Girl-who-Lived is concerned, his death was rightfully celebrated.

Sadly, rumors of his death have been greatly exaggerated and the dirtbag has brought himself back in her life by possessing her Defense teacher, thus giving her terrible headaches the entire year. His refusal to stay dead makes him not only dark and evil, but a dark and evil _wanker_.

Like all other wankers in her life, he returns the blazing feeling of dislike with matching intensity. He appears so offended to have been defeated by a baby girl, and to now be challenged by the same girl, barely grown up, bearing _pigtails_ that she thinks he might have a stroke.  That’d be convenient. Unfortunately, she’s always has bad luck: there is no stroke in sight.

The man goes through the motions of a typical good versus evil showdown, but his attempt is strained. Something must not compute for the Dark Lord: his ‘join-me-on-the-Dark-side’ speech feels half-hearted and seriously lackluster.

Indeed, Quirrell sneers at her and reveals, ‘It wasn’t supposed to be about you, Rose Potter. You were _nothing_ , a mere _opportunity_. I have taught you all year. All you have done is hold your head down and whine. There is no special power to you.’

She’ll never be able to explain how the both of them switched from their position in front of the Mirror to a fistfight on the ground. But it happens. In his effort to wrestle the Stone away from her, Quirrell elbows her twice in the face and kicks her once in the shin. She has the dubious privilege of kneeing his gut but the satisfaction doesn’t last. Before she can blink, the man pulls her by her hair, jerking harshly on the order of his master. His other hand grabs at her throat.

‘Hair pulling?’ she coughs out, dubious. Catty teenage girls pull hair; villains are supposed to have flashier tricks up their sleeves.

The next moment, she is clawing at his face in retaliation.

Quirrell burns.

 

 

 

 


End file.
